The sun feels like it’s burning my skin straight through the window as I roll over in bed. Last night, we stumbled back to our suite, and since we drank and sang karaoke all night, I forgot to close the curtains—hell, I’m lucky I even made it to the bed at that point.

Just as I sit up, my head pounds hard and loud like the beat of the music at the club. Drinking so early after we traveled all day was a bad decision on my part, but Dylan was all for it, as usual. We aren’t letting any part of this vacation go to waste.

I stand and walk to the bathroom only to catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror.

You look like shit, I think to myself, needing to clear my throat that’s sore from all my loud singing. Favorite song of the night: “All My Exes Live in Texas.” I chuckle because they do.

The world’s spinning, and I place my hand against the wall to steady myself before I face-plant on the floor. I stumble to the mini fridge to grab a bottle of water and realize I don’t see Dylan anywhere in the room. Opening the door that leads to the sitting area, I find him sleeping on the couch with his legs and arms hanging off the side. He’s too tall for that small couch, and it makes me laugh, even though it hurts my head when I do. He’s trying so hard to be comfortable, it’s comical. We might be a hungover shitshow, but we showed Florida how to really party—Texan style.

Last night, after we bought some swim trunks and flip-flops, we changed clothes, grabbed a quick dinner, then went down to the cabana bar by the water where country music was blasting loud and proud. Five shots of tequila and a few beers later, we were dancing and singing, and now today I’m paying for it.

Just as my stomach growls, Dylan rolls over off the couch and lands flat on his ass. He rubs his hand over his face, and I can tell he feels as bad as I do.

“Ugh,” he moans, trying to get up but fails miserably. Walking over to him, I hold out my hand to pull him off the floor. As he stands in front of me, I see bright red lip prints all over his face.

“Last night must’ve been good.” I chuckle, plopping down on the couch and leaning my head back.

Dylan looks at me confused before walking to the bathroom. Once he flicks on the lights, I hear him mutter, “What the hell?” I know he’s referring to the lipstick on his face and neck. “All that and I slept on that damn miniature couch alone!”

My stomach growls again, and I know the only way to fix this hangover is to eat something.

“I’m hungry,” I tell him as I force myself to stand and go to my suitcase. I slip on a T-shirt and a pair of jeans.

“Me too,” Dylan agrees.

Just as I walk toward the door and slip on my flip-flops, Dylan falls in line behind me. He’s still wearing his clothes from yesterday but doesn’t seem to care.

We take the elevator to the ground level, walk through the lobby, and head straight to the room where the continental breakfast is served. The smell of sausage and bacon fills the room, and my mouth instantly waters. Not wasting any time, Dylan and I stack food on our plates like we always do, yet with the selection in front of us, we keep adding as if we haven’t eaten in a week. Pancakes, sausage, bacon, fruit—hell, we got a little of everything.

Before we sit, I notice a pretty blonde at the buffet. As soon as I make eye contact with her, she looks the other way, pretending as if I don’t exist. Dylan and I end up sitting a few tables away from where she and her friends are.

“You should go talk to her. You’re eyeing her more than the eggs on your plate,” Dylan encourages with a smirk.

“Nah,” I say, pouring syrup over my pancakes and cutting into them.

“Dare you,” he whispers with a mouthful of food.

Now there’s one thing a person shouldn’t ever do, and that’s dare a Bishop.

I eye him, knowing there’s no going back on it now.

“Unless you’re chicken,” he teases before he begins clucking at me.

After I finish chewing my food, I try to listen to their conversation because if it sounds important, I’ll have to take a rain check. Dare or not, Mama always taught us boys not to interrupt important discussions. Once I realize her friend is chatting about a celebrity, and everyone at the table looks tuned out of the conversation, I take it as my cue to walk over.

Standing behind her, I catch the slight hint of her strawberry-scented shampoo. Her friend peers up at me and smiles, and I throw out some cheesy pickup line that always works when hitting on girls in trashy bars.

She looks over at Dylan then back at me, and that’s when I see a hint of blush hit her cheeks. I’m talking loud enough so he can hear our conversation, and I quickly look over my shoulder at him. All he does is shake his head and laugh.

Once I’m completely rejected by her, I pretend to be hurt and walk back over to Dylan who’s laughing so loud other people in the dining area are staring at us.

“Damn. She’s a savage. I like her,” he says with a shit-eating grin. Moments later, I see Miranda or Mazie—whatever her name is—bounce up to our table with a devilish look in her eye. I take full advantage knowing the blonde girl is watching even though she rejected me just moments ago.

Miranda or Mazie hands me a piece of paper, and once I see it’s her phone number, I look up and wink, knowing I have no intentions of actually calling her. But I’m a gentleman after all, so of course, I smile in return. We had a good time last night at the bar drinking and dancing, but that’s as far as things will go.

I watch her walk away, and when I look up, I see the blonde girl glaring in my direction. The opportunity to taunt her is too good to pass up when I see her muttering under her breath.

Just as I take a huge bite of my pancakes, the redhead that was sitting with the blonde girl who just rejected me walks over to our table with a beaming smile on her face.

“Hey, I’m Natalie, and this is my boyfriend, Adam,” she says, waving her hand to the guy standing next to her. “And that girl at my table you were talking to is my friend River.”

Smiling, I quickly swallow down the rest of my food. “Nice to meet y’all. This is Dylan, and I’m Alex.”

“River likes to play hard to get, but she’s totally single.” She flashes a wink. “Just in case you were wondering,” she adds, then continues, “and she’d probably murder me if she knew I told you that.”

Now I’m the one laughing. “Probably, but I can keep a secret.”

“Okay, good. Thanks.” She grins. “Well, I hope we’ll see you around the resort.”

“I’m sure you will. We’re here for two weeks,” I add, giving her a smile.

“Us too!” Natalie squeals. “Wait, are you single?” She furrows her brows at me. “Want to make sure there isn’t a wife, girlfriend, or fiancée waiting for you at home.”

Dylan snorts. “Ma’am, his middle name is single.”

I glance at Dylan, but Natalie doesn’t seem to notice.

“Well, that’s great news.” Her eyes light up, and I can tell she’s already trying to play matchmaker. It’s not the first time I’ve seen that look on a woman's face, and I’m sure it won’t be the last.

“Babe, we gotta go. The boat leaves in twenty minutes,” Adam reminds her.

She nods at him with a smile then looks back at me. “We’ll totally see you around.”

Once she walks away, Dylan scoffs. “Seriously? I swear, it’s so easy for you. She’s already trying to hook you up. What a nice friend.” He grins.

I continue to stuff my face. “Basically, but she’s just trying to play matchmaker. I already know what type she is—overly flirty and sweet, but a loyal friend. And I sincerely appreciate her giving me the scoop on her pretty friend. The info might come in handy.”

After Dylan rolls his eyes then basically licks his plate clean, he sits back in his chair and pats his stomach. “Might need a wheelbarrow to get me out of here.”

“Wasn’t like Mama’s cooking, but it hit the spot,” I admit, overly full too. Dylan and I finish our juice before we stand and stretch. Thankfully my head stopped pounding, and I feel like a new man after eating.

“Whatcha wanna do today?” Dylan asks just as a man with a stack of bright yellow flyers walks through the hotel lobby and hands us both one.

“Stand up paddleboarding, windsurfing, jet skis, kayaks, snorkeling, and an all-day pass is only $149. But wait, for just $59.99 more, we can add a sunset cruise with a romantic dinner.”

“You’ve got the creepy infomercial voice down,” I tell him with a chuckle. “I saw some people on those board things yesterday. It looked like fun.”

“Yeah and the weather outside is perfect. We should do it. The rental place is right around the corner.” Dylan folds the paper and shoves it into his pocket.

“Let’s get ready and head over there.”

After we go to our room and change into swim clothes, we walk down to the water sports shop, just like the flyer says. Before we leave the hotel lobby, I glance around for River but don’t see her anywhere. That woman is officially on my radar. Her smart mouth and the way she responds to me is intriguing, and I’d be lying if I didn’t admit I was curious. After I shake the image of her round ass walking away from breakfast this morning, I realize Dylan is talking to me.

“What do you want to do first?” he repeats himself, annoyed.

“Let’s start at the beginning of the list and work our way down.”

As we walk a few blocks, we see the big yellow signs pointing to the shop.

“Hey, welcome!” a high-energy woman says from behind the counter when we enter.

“Howdy, ma’am,” Dylan and I both respond in unison. It’s easy to blend in with the tourists in our board shorts and flip-flops, but the moment we open our mouths, people know we’re not from around these parts. Though we’ve been here less than twenty-four hours, Key West is a culture shock to us. It’s much different from the rolling hills, cactus, cows, and ranch. Reggae music plays in the background, and seashell wind chimes rattle in the breeze.

“Have you ever been on a paddleboard before?” The cute woman walks around the counter as we look at the different boards and paddles lined up against the wall.

“No, ma’am,” Dylan says, putting the Southern accent on real thick, and I’m pretty sure she’s about to melt in his palm.

“Please don’t call me ma’am. I’m twenty-two years old, not eighty,” she tells him with her eyebrow raised. “I’m Trish.”

“Nice to meet you, Trish,” Dylan says in a low raspy voice. Right about now, if he was wearing his cowboy hat, he would’ve tipped it.

She blushes. “I have a class in ten minutes to teach beginners if you’d like to sign up,” she tells him with a flirty smile playing on her lips. “We’ll meet right over there by the flags.” She points to the bright blue flags out by the kayaks on the shore. The shop is walking distance from the water, which’ll make carrying everything convenient, considering the boards are so bulky.

Dylan looks over his shoulder at me for approval, and I nod my head at him with a smirk.

“Yeah, we’ll sign up.” He pulls out his credit card and pays.

We happily walk to the beach with our boards and paddles while the sun beams down on us. A slight breeze wisps through the palm trees, and it feels as if we’re in actual paradise on Earth. I take off my shirt and throw it on the beach, trying to enjoy the warmth while I can. In a month, the temperatures in Texas will drop below forty before lunchtime, so warm days like this will be few and far between.

“She was cute, don’t you think?” he asks, removing his T-shirt too.

As soon as I get ready to open my mouth and give him some shit, Trish comes bopping toward us in a small bikini. After a quick explanation of how to mount the board, she starts giving extra attention to Dylan, allowing her eyes to linger a little too long on his chest and abs. I encourage him with every innuendo she throws his way.

“Get on your knees.” She points at the board that sits on top of the sand. “This is a very important position especially when you need a break from…” She licks her lips, and Dylan waits on edge for her to finish the sentence.

“…standing,” she says with a wink.

Considering we’re the only two in the class, I’m starting to feel like the third wheel.

“I agree,” he says with a smirk, eating up everything she’s saying. I’m trying really hard to keep my scoffs and eye rolls to myself.

Once we’ve practiced a few times on the sand, she tells us to take our boards to the water, which is as calm as can be. We mount our boards how she taught us, and at first, we both look like baby cows learning to walk for the first time—all wobbly and trying not to fall on our asses.

But before too long, we’re both standing and paddling around.

After an hour, Trish lets us know the beginner’s lesson is over and releases us to the ocean alone but tells Dylan now that if he wants another lesson, she’d be happy to give him a one-on-one. Knowing Dylan, he’d be more than happy to take her up on that offer, but he wouldn’t leave me alone, so he tells her maybe another time.

Without further hesitation, we head back into the water, but paddle farther than before. From a distance, the people lying out on the beach look tiny, and I know it’s time we turn around.

“Race you back?” I ask Dylan, and he happily agrees to the challenge.

“Loser buys drinks tonight,” Dylan calls out, confidently.

“Deal.” We line our boards up and then count down before we both take off.

We’re laughing and talking shit, and just as I start to pass Dylan, he takes his paddle and swings it at me, but misses and falls off his board.

“Cheater!” I yell back at him, waiting for a rebuttal. I’m halfway to the shore when I turn around and realize he’s not on his board or floating in the water. Panic rushes through me, and I start yelling his name before diving from my board back toward him. I swim as hard as I can, searching for any sign of life when I finally find him sinking lower into the water.

Seconds feel like minutes as I wrap my arm around Dylan’s chest and pull us up above the surface. I swim as fast as I can back to shore with one arm. Before I make it to the shore, a few people take notice and run into the water to help me carry him. I’m freaking the fuck out as Dylan lies on the sand on his back, blue in the face and completely unresponsive.

Like an angel, River comes running from out of nowhere and immediately goes to work on Dylan. Without hesitation, she checks his pulse and begins chest compressions as hard and fast as she can. It all happens so quickly that I can barely think, and I feel so helpless as River directs her ear to his mouth to check if he’s breathing. Someone behind me cries out on the phone, and I realize the woman is on the phone with 911. I’m completely speechless watching River work like a pro. She tilts his head back and pushes air into his mouth twice before going back to chest compressions. A moment later, Dylan begins to move.

“He’s breathing!” River exclaims, rolling him over onto his side, and I watch as he coughs up water. The crowd that gathered around us breathes a collective sigh of relief as Dylan blinks up at us.

Just as he comes to, the paramedics arrive, and once River explains what happened, they begin the process of inserting an IV with fluids into his arm and ask Dylan how he’s feeling. He responds while they place an EKG monitor on his chest and clip a thing onto his finger.

“What’s that for?” I ask, nodding my head at it

“A pulse oximeter so we can see how much oxygen is in his blood and make sure he’s getting enough air,” one of the paramedics answer.

“The normal range is between ninety-five to ninety-nine percent, so he’s a little low right now, but that’s common given the circumstances,” the other paramedic adds.

More questions are asked as to what happened, how long was he underwater, how long it took for him to start breathing on his own, and River and I answer the best we can as they load him onto a gurney and recommend he see a doctor for follow-up tests.

“I don’t need to go,” Dylan says softly, trying to sit up. “I’m just fine,” he insists.

“You should,” I hear River tell him. “They need to make sure you’re okay, and that I didn’t fracture a rib or anything.” She smirks at him, and he actually decides to listen to her.

As Dylan’s pushed into the ambulance, I climb in behind and sit on the bench next to the gurney. The paramedics strap in and we take off to the hospital. On the way, all I can think of is how his mama is going to kill me as I replay every moment in my head.

One minute, he was being an asshole trying to cheat by knocking me off my board, and the next I’m dragging his unconscious body to the beach because he nearly drowns. It seems surreal, actually. I couldn’t find him, and when I did, adrenaline pumped through me so hard I rushed back to shore as fast as possible.

Once we arrive and Dylan is unloaded, they immediately move him to a private triage room as we wait for a doctor to evaluate him.

“What the fuck happened?” I ask when we’re finally alone, emotion thick in my voice.

“I don’t know,” Dylan tells me, making eye contact. “I was never a strong swimmer.”

I run my fingers through my hair. “How have we been friends for forever, and I never knew that? Why’d you agreed to get in the water then? And why the hell did you go out that far?” I’m throwing question after question at him because I don’t know what else to do. I’ve never felt fear like that in my entire life. “You could’ve died, Dylan. Do you know what your mama would’ve done to me if that had happened? I would’ve blamed myself forever,” I scold a little too sternly. My face softens, and I let out a long breath. “I’m glad you’re okay. You scared the shit out of me.”

Dylan smiles. “Not getting soft on me, are you?”

“You’re a dick,” I spit out just as a female nurse walks in, holding a file in her hand.

“Mr. Hart,” she addresses sweetly. “How are you feeling?”

Dylan sits up in bed. “Better. I’m breathing,” he jokes.

“That’s great to hear. Just to be completely transparent, the doctor wants to do chest X-rays to double-check there’s no fluid in your lungs or anything. Otherwise, you could get pneumonia, and that can be very serious,” she continues to explain. “The X-ray technician will be here in the next few minutes with their portable machine to do testing. But before then, do you have any questions for me?”

Dylan glances over at me, then back at the nurse. “How long do I have to stay here?”

“The doctor will follow up with you on that after the results come in, but normally it’s recommended you stay overnight so we can monitor your oxygen levels and make sure everything stays normal.”

Dylan huffs, and I can tell he’s unhappy with that answer. After the nurse exits the room, he starts his bitching.

“I’m a walking party foul! All I wanted to do was a have a good time and now look at me. Being pumped full of shit and having to get X-rays of my lungs…” Before he can finish his rant, the technician walks in, and I’m asked to wait in the hallway.

I sit in the waiting area and find myself becoming more antsy with each tick of the second hand on the clock. Standing, I walk to the window and stare out at the blue sky and thank my lucky stars that Dylan is alive. It was such a close call and frightening as fuck. Sure, I’ve had to deal with some shit on the ranch, like cuts and bruises, dying animals, and snake bites, but there’s nothing like watching my best friend lie unconscious. Before I’m allowed to fall too deeply into my thoughts, I’m told I can go back into the room.

I enter, and we sit there for at least an hour listening to the beeps of the machines before a doctor finally enters with a file in her hand and a smile on her face.

“Hi, Mr. Hart. I’m Dr. Jacobs. I’ve had a chance to review your X-rays,” she states sweetly.

“Howdy,” Dylan greets in return.

She opens the file and grabs the films before placing them onto a screen, and the X-rays light up when she clicks a button. “Your lungs look clear for the most part. This cloudy area down here…” She outlines the area with the end of her pen. “…somewhat concerns me, so just to be on the safe side, we’re going to keep you overnight for observation. I’d like to continue monitoring your heart rate and oxygen levels and keep you hydrated with the IV. I’ll order another X-ray in the morning just to be sure, and if everything looks clear, you’ll be discharged.” She flashes a hopeful smile, though Dylan looks displeased.

Dylan forces out a smile so as not to be rude.

Dr. Jacobs smiles back at him. “Do you have any questions for me?”

“No, ma’am. Thank you,” he tells her.

“If you need anything till then, you can press the call button, and the nurses will be happy to help. Don’t hesitate to reach out, especially if you start feeling any differently,” she says before leaving the room.

We sit in silence for a few moments, and that’s when Dylan groans.

“Suppose that means you won’t be texting the code word tonight.” I chuckle, breaking the tension, but he rolls his eyes instead.

“On a serious note, after I’m moved to my room, you should go back to the hotel where you can actually sleep comfortably. I don’t want you to be a prisoner in the hospital, too.”

I stare at him. “Are you sure? I’ll stay here with you. I don’t mind.”

“Yes, I’ll be fine,” he insists. “I’m gonna try to get some sleep so I can live it up the rest of the time we’re here. I don’t think what happened has completely set in yet, but I feel exhausted, and it’s barely five.”

I nod, not wanting to argue with him because I can only imagine how he feels. Though I don’t feel right about leaving him here, I don’t argue with him. An hour passes and Dylan is finally moved to his room. I go with him, and when we enter, I’m almost grateful he doesn’t want me to stay. It’s small and stuffy, and there’s a chair in the corner with a blanket draped over the arm. A nurse closes the blinds and tells Dylan the kitchen will close pretty soon. He smiles and nods, but I can tell he’s too tired to eat.

“If you need me before tomorrow, don’t hesitate to call me. Also, text me when you get discharged, okay? And don’t be too damn stubborn while you’re here.”

“I’ll let you know,” he says.

As I walk toward the door to leave, Dylan calls my name. “Alex.”

I turn around and look at him. “Yeah?”

“Thanks for saving my life.”

I smile. “Really glad you weren’t a statistic, man. Next time, no fucking water sports.” I point a finger at him as if I’m scolding him. “Honestly though, without River, I don’t know what would’ve happened.” I shrug, hating to admit that and terrified of the what-ifs.

“Well, from the sounds of it, both of you saved my life. I owe you one,” he says sincerely, pulling the blanket up to his chest and releasing a yawn. “You better not tell my mama.”

“I won’t. I’ll see you tomorrow,” I say as I exit.

After a taxi ride across the island, I arrive at the hotel and head up to the room. As soon as I get in the room, I jump in the shower and wash the day away before changing into some jeans and a button-up shirt. I grab one of the miniature whiskey bottles from the wet bar and slide the balcony door open. I plan to soak up the late evening breeze and forget about what happened. From a distance, I can see the calmness of the water and hear the wind blowing through the palm trees.

Glancing around outside, I scan the bar outside near the pool, and that’s when I see her.

River.

She’s smiling and chatting with Natalie, and I find myself watching her play with her long locks. I notice a few little things, like how she throws her head back when she’s truly laughing. One can only imagine the conversation they’re having after all the excitement today, and Natalie seems like the kind of friend who constantly gives her shit regardless if she saved a man’s life or not. There’s no telling what they’re discussing.

I let out a small chuckle and realize I never properly thanked her for stepping in without hesitation and saving Dylan.

That changes now.